Anatomy of Flirting
by Scribbler17
Summary: Barry and Iris flirt in the early stages of their relationship.


"I would have never thought you were a Boob Guy," Iris remarks, spreading out to lay flat onto the bed, the coolness of the crisp sheets striking the skin of her back, her hair splaying out onto the pillows.

It's exactly her fourth time sleeping with Barry since they claimed couple status. They're at that initial stage in their relationship where she can tally how many times they've done the deed, though she readily looks forward to the days when they've had sex enough times to lose count. She's currently stripped down to her underwear, gazing up at Barry, waiting for him to catch up to her. She eyes the motions of his naked torso as he eagerly unbuckles his belt to push his pants down his thighs.

Her assumption that he favors breasts over any other part of the female anatomy seems like a reasonable conclusion to make given his captivation at the sight of her chest whenever she's revealed it to him thus far. She's feeling quite bold now, stretching her arms taut above her head so that her breasts appear perkier, more on display, smirking at the reaction it seems to elicit from Barry. Iris should be surprised at how quickly she's overcome her shyness around him, judging by how timid she was the first time he undressed her. But when it became evident that touching her best friend and letting him touch her was the easiest, most fitting, most fulfilling evolution of their relationship, she wonders how she felt nervous at all.

If anything, she's amazed that Barry, who accepted he loved her years ago, is blushing now, smiling from ear to ear, but as pink in the face as he had been when he adorably asked her if she wanted to give "this" a shot. How the very same boy had looked her in the eye and nonchalantly claimed she was his everything mere days before baffles her.

She supposes she _was_ wearing clothes then…

"Why do you say that?" he grins, kicking his jeans and boxers off his feet and leaning down to settle across her body, his bare chest propped over hers. The strain of his erection brushes her knee.

"I wouldn't have believed it, not with the way your eyes linger on my butt when you're standing behind me, or whenever I turn around," she accuses teasingly. "You do realize you have all the subtlety of an elephant?"

He turns redder still, but he's beaming just as broadly, sheepish, but not the least bit ashamed.

"Well," he reaches around her waist to slip his hands down her panties, squeezing her from behind, "Do I really have to explain that one?"

She appreciates that he's being more forward. He seems taken aback at his own audacity, but clearly pleased with himself after she arcs to press down into his palms. His bold charm inspires her to extend her leg out, perching her calf atop his shoulder. At the contact, he hesitates, and Iris giggles at the sight. Where he had just been convinced of his finesse, he's now confused about where to direct his attention and efforts, eyes on her breasts, hands under her ass, and neck against her leg.

She slowly massages the side of his neck with her shin, deciding the opportunity to torment him further was too good to pass up.

"What is it, Barry Allen?" she coaxes, rubbing against him more forcefully. "Are you a Leg Guy, too?"

Where his stiff length still grazes the knee of her other leg, she feels him harden even further, and the sense of satisfaction that overwhelms her has her in disbelief at how shy she was only a few days ago in this same bed.

Barry shakes himself out of his daze, at least enough for him to realize his hands are in the perfect position to slide her panties down. She breathes a sigh of relief at his restored confidence as she withdraws the leg at his neck to let him glide the last barrier separating them and keeping her from complete nudity off of her ankles.

His eyes bore into hers after they skim the entirety of her exposed figure, taking all of her in, and while Iris knows she'll eventually lose count of how many times they sleep together, she's certain she'll never get used to the way he looks at her.

"I think I'm just an Iris West Guy," he concedes bashfully, his smile mirroring hers.


End file.
